Petal's POV

Morning came wrapped in the scent of smoke and fever.

Even before the first howl of dawn, I was already moving sleeves rolled to my elbows, hair tied messily, hands deep in boiling water. The healer’s hut had turned into a battlefield again.

The sickness had spread to the southern quarter overnight. Five new patients. Two of them pups.

Garcia’s voice trembled as she handed me a bundle of half-dried roots. “That’s the last of the bloodleaf.”

I bit the inside of my ...